Letters to Miss Bennet
by Christini
Summary: As Elizabeth goes about her life that has been rudely publicised by a certain Jane Austen, she recieves letters written on strange paper, with an almost foreign way of expression. Someone is not happy with Miss Bennet...
1. The first letter

**This is mainly my way of venting my frustration at my coursework. **

**I don't own Pride & Prej. or any of the characters found here, although the mysterious author of the letters if very much my own person. ;)**

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It is a truth universally acknowledged that any schoolgirl in possession of a copy of Pride and Prejudice, must be in want of a match with which to see all her problems go up in smoke.

However little known the feelings or views of the characters in _that_ book, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the students that they find themselves running out of rooms screaming if people so much as mention 'Elizabeth Bennet'.

And it was down to this truth that somehow, breaking all previous conceptions about the laws of space, time and fictional universes, Elizabeth Bennet found a note upon her desk. It was printed in a uniformed script upon some of the whitest paper she had ever laid eyes upon, and, because she had nothing better to do, she began to read.

Dear Miss Elizabeth Bennet

Before I begin I would just like to say that I respect you. Really, I do, I believe you to be a remarkable woman – ahead of your time in many ways – and I greatly admire your wit and astuteness. This is not to say that I like you.

Miss Elizabeth Bennet, as high regard I have for your humour I simply cannot abide you. Perhaps I can better explain the root of my problem:

I am currently on holiday. It is half past five and it is 30ºC. I ought to be bathing in the glorious sunlight, or lounging on a sun bed reading a relaxing book. But I'm not. And _you_, Miss Bennet, are the cause of this. I am currently in my room, with my laptop, searching through that terrible pre 1914 prose for evidence of you being unconventional. If, perhaps, your father hadn't bothered to confide in you, or picked you out at the end of chapter one, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe if you'd just married Mr Collins, like you should have done, it would all be fine. Possibly if you had provided no witty repartee and merely stood and giggled I would be out enjoying my holiday.

Of course, you probably have no idea what I'm talking about. You're about to have a dance at some ghastly place, no doubt, unaware of how your life is being followed carefully by millions around the world.

You will meet a very rich man who is going to refer to you a 'tolerable'. I would have hit him, if I were in your place. Perhaps a well aimed kick where it hurts ought to do the trick. Huh – that would teach him.

Also, I would like to request that you put a double 'T' at the end of your surname. My Spell-check refuses to recognise 'Bennet' spelt with only one 'T' therefore I have had to use up valuable space on the hard drive adding your surname to the dictionary.

I shall continue our correspondence at a later date.

Yours &c

P.S. What is it with people who keep writing you letters ending them with 'yours &c'? It's sheer laziness. I suggest you give them all a slap around the face.

Miss Elizabeth Bennet read the letter again to ensure she had fully understood quite what it told her. Indeed, she was going to a dance... how peculiar.

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**I would very much appreciate any views on this, and I do have plans for further letters, but if there is anything anyone would like dear Miss Bennet to know about, do leave a review with the details, and I shall ensure she receives it.**


	2. After the dance

**Thank you very much if you have reviewed/added this story to alerts/added it to your favourites. I've actually just been on holiday for two weeks – I would have added more chapters sooner.... **

Elizabeth had returned from the dance in high spirits, despite the slight from the proud Mr Darcy. She felt happy for Jane, as did the rest of the Bennet family – although her father was not as open as the rest of them, his favourite daughter knew when he was merely affecting indifference.

It was as she was about to sit down that she noted anther folded piece of paper with her name printed on the outside. She opened it out, and began to read...

Dear Miss Elizabeth Bennet,

I hope you enjoyed your dance. I didn't. I admit, I found it tedious to the extreme. I'm sure you and your sisters (all of whom I also dislike) had a wonderful time, being frivolous and giddy and generally behaving in a conventional manner.

So, now you've met him. Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy (what kind of people would name their son Fitzwilliam – ask yourself that and consider the kind of in-laws you might be getting) (but you won't know about that either.)

And about Mr Darcy; do you really want to spend the rest of your life with someone who, upon meeting you, said you were 'tolerable'? He might have reconciled himself later in the story, but really... Do you think you could take him anywhere without him embarrassing himself? And, more importantly, think of how embarrassed you would be to have to take a moody, disrespectful husband into other people's homes??? Maybe he's not the right man for you. Not that you even think he is in the first place, but you shall learn, Miss Bennet, you shall learn.

Yours &c

P.S. you will note how, despite previously citing 'yours &c' as sheer laziness I thought I had better fit in with the times...

Lizzie read and reread the letter in the utmost confusion. She didn't want to spend the rest of her life with Mr Darcy – neither did she wish to even spend another minute in the insufferable man's presence. She wondered what kind of person it might take to write something like that – they had been right about the dance, but there wasn't a soul in Hertfordshire that _didn't_ know about the dance. Perhaps the mysterious author actually attended the dance themselves – that would explain how they knew about Mr Darcy. And didn't they admit in the very first part that they found it 'tedious'?

They had obviously been watching her and her family. Had Elizabeth Bennet known the meaning of 'stalker' she would have been sure to apply this very apt description towards the mysterious writer.

"Oh, Lizzie!" exclaimed Jane, "You have no idea how happy I am!"

Lizzie quickly folded the letter and slipped it into the pocket of her apron – it seemed as though these letters would be regular and come often. Perhaps she ought to find a good hiding place for them. She resolved to consider the problem another times, for now she would rejoice in her sister's good fortune.

**I wouldn't mind a review, now and again...**


	3. About Charlotte

**Thank you again for the lovely reviews... they make my happy :) Thanks also to those who have put this on their story alerts. It makes me feel loved.**

**I don't own Pride & Prej., but as far as I know it's not copyrighted any more. So I am free to use the text. It is, however, the work of Jane Austen and I do not claim it to be mine – save for the parts of this story specifically relating to the letters.**

Elizabeth retreated with some degree of relief from the pianoforte, and was not at all surprised when her sister took up the instrument immediately after her. It was then that she spied, on the music stand, a small piece of paper, again, with her name written on it.

Having previously received two of these letters, Miss Bennet was in doubt as to what kind of content it might hold, and her natural curiosity lead her to quickly snatch the paper before her sister could see it, and read.

Dear Miss Elizabeth Bennet

Whilst you are listening, perhaps reluctantly, to Mary's piano playing (I feel sorry for Mary. No one seems to care about her, poor dear, it's not her fault she's ugly and boring) I thought you might as well read this.

I wanted to comment on your friendship with Charlotte Lucas. I hate to be frank, but I can see nothing that commends her as either a good friend or a pleasant companion. She is conventional, and probably only placed there to juxtapose yourself and your opinions on marriage so that we poor GCSE students have something to write about.

Charlotte told you that 'happiness in marriage is only a matter of chance', did she not? She did not say this just as a passing comment, you must understand, but she instead meant it for us. She was speaking to us, Miss Bennet, not you. One day you will understand this. Or maybe you won't.

You might have ascertained from my statement above that I was there whilst you were having your nice little conversation with Miss Lucas, but I have to tell you that that is not the case. _I _was sitting in a dingy little classroom somewhere. You have no idea how lucky you are.

A final note to leave you with: I wouldn't get your hopes up about Jane, if I were you. Don't be too disappointed if Mr Bingley might happen to walk off... your mother doesn't help.

Yours &c

Lizzie did her best to conceal a shocked gasp. Of course, she was well aware that her mother was often looked down upon in society and generally regarded as rude and coarse – but to have this harsh reality pointed out by a person she barely even knew...

What, she wondered, was a GCSE, and why would Charlotte want to say anything to these 'GCSE students'?

She was drawn out of her reverie by a lively jig and Mr Darcy's voice proudly declaring that 'every savage can dance'.

If any savage could indeed dance, Elizabeth mused, Mr Darcy would find himself a master of the art, for it seemed there were none with a more savage pride than he. Except, perhaps, for the mysterious author of the letter, who seemed so self-sure, judgmental and really rather savage in their views. _They_ could probably dance.

**I like reviews....**


	4. A little spot of Darcy bashing

**I keep leaving my copy of Pride & Prej in strange places. I've also been very busy – but I have managed to write some decent coursework about Elizabeth's conventionality (A*!!!), so I'm quite relieved.**

**Thank you again to all those kind reviewers who make me smile. I can only hope that I can continue to write the same kind of stuff that you seem to enjoy. I almost feel a little pressurised now :)**

**Apologies for this chapter. It was written mainly whilst suffering from what might have been swine flu. It's not a very good state of mind to write in. **

The evening came to an end, an occurrence that Elizabeth Bennet was most thankful for due to the seemingly insufferable presence of Mr Darcy. Although, she had to admit, she did rather enjoy watching the expression on his arrogant, rather smug, little face when she declined his invitation to dance.

She was just about to lay her head down for the night when she felt something strange under her pillow. Something that seemed remarkably like paper.

Another letter.

Dear Miss Elizabeth Bennet

You actually almost made me laugh. Congratulations for the way you dealt with Mr Darcy there- 'Mr Darcy is all politeness'- would have had me cracking up if I had that kind of sense of humour. Which I do. But I didn't laugh because that would just have been sad to laugh at two-hundred year old jokes. Well, I didn't laugh in front of other people because I'm a self-respecting woman. Or rather, teenager.

I may have earlier stated that I disliked you. Whilst that is still true, I do now respect you ever so slightly more than when I began my journey through this period in your life.

So well done for that Mr Darcy bashing, as I see it. He deserved it.

Whilst many will argue that you displayed signs of prejudice here, I would state that Mr Darcy was incredibly rude and stuck so far up his own arse he's coming back out of his mouth again. (A figure of speech, let me assure you). Seriously though, just because he's richer than you and owns half of Derbyshire doesn't mean he has to be a miserable git who thinks he's better than everyone else.

Playing the devil's advocate for a moment, technically, he is better than you. He does own half of Derbyshire and he does have quite a lot of money, so you might have been a little politer and shown some deference to his status.

By the way, there is no such place Meryton, although Hertfordshire is real... I just thought you might like to know that you live in a fictional town. I wonder how that feels? You probably don't even believe me.

Yours &c

P.S. I took modern dancing lessons when I was six. I failed miserably. And I had one tap dancing lesson. That was also a bit of a failure. And that's my total experience with dancing. Unless you count that time in year seven when our P.E. teacher thought it would be fun to make us wrap ourselves up in tin foil and do a robot dance. My pride has never been restored since.

What, Elizabeth Bennet wondered, was _modern_ dancing? More importantly, who were the people the writer referred to that might argue that she displayed signs of prejudice? Why would anyone wish to argue over her character?

What had she done to deserve being the recipient of these strange letters? The writer obviously came from a world different to the one that Elizabeth knew – what kind of a respectable person from _her_ world would dare to cast such thoughts about Mr Darcy to paper? And the peculiar terms used in the postscript were enough to confuse anyone to the brink of insanity. P.E? Robots? Tin foil? Year seven?

She firmly decided that she would waste no more time when she ought to be sleeping. It would probably make sense in the morning.

**Reviews will make me happy and may help me recover from this flu-ish state. Maybe.**


	5. A very nice letter

**A very short chapter indeed, that came to me whilst I was lying in bed last night. I just had to stick this in somewhere. Thanks to people who have reviewed me so far :) It's brightened up my day.**

The footman entered the Bennet household carrying two messages. One was for Miss Jane Bennet, from a certain Caroline Bingley, and it caused great interest from her mother and sisters. The other was for Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and, for some peculiar reason, no one remarked upon it.

Miss Elizabeth Bennet was beginning to recognise the type of letter she had received very well indeed. She opened it with a mixture of eagerness and hesitation, wondering what the strange author might have to say to her this time.

Dear Miss Elizabeth Bennet

Your sister, Jane, has just got a letter from Netherfield. I thought you might feel a little left out, so I decided to send you a letter too.

Here is your letter:

G

I think it's a very nice letter.

Yours &c

P.S. Forgive me for enjoying a little chuckle at your expense.

P.P.S I'll send you another proper letter soon, I promise :)

Well... how _rude_.

What on earth did the colon followed by a bracket mean?

Sometimes, Elizabeth Bennet just wanted to give up.

**Hehehe...**


	6. I cannot think of a good chapter name

**I've just realised that this is starting to turn out a bit like Sophie's World (which is an amazing book – if anyone hasn't read it do so immediately!)... **

**Apologies for the long break, and I hope you enjoy it. I was busy with NaNoWriMo (which I won :D ) and then I had my mocks :(**

**I've been quite nervous about posting another chapter because of all the lovely reviews, if that makes any sense whatsoever.**

Dear Miss Elizabeth Bennet

I had this letter delivered directly to Netherfield, as I am aware that your sister is currently ill and you felt the wonderfully selfless need to care for her. How nice of you. And what was your mother thinking when she sent Jane there? And on horseback too! I think you ought to know that you have a really strange family. Seriously.

Of course, you managed to walk and not get a terrible cold. Maybe your sister could learn a lesson from you, eh?

You are currently sharing the house not only with Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy but Mr Bingley's ghastly siblings, Caroline and Louisa. They've been bitching about you behind your back about how wild and unladylike you looked. As much as I dislike you and would have thought that, after your sisters misfortune, you ought to have taken the carriage, I find my dislike for Caroline and Louisa even stronger. Is Miss Austen incapable of writing _any_ likable characters into her novels?

Were I in your place I would slap them. Hard. Although you should never resort to violence, I believe it would be acceptable in this one case.

Good luck dealing with them.

Yours &c

For once, Elizabeth Bennet felt some degree of affinity with the writer. She would, indeed like nothing more than for Bingley's sisters to be on the receiving end of a good, hard slap, although she knew full well that should she take such action, Jane's relationship with Mr Bingley would come to an abrupt halt and her entire family would be cast into shame for decades.

The conventions of society were indeed very wearying – but as were these bothersome letters that appeared to plague her wherever she went. She felt as though the mysterious author of these letters knew something that she didn't. And they were being very smug and self-righteous about it, too.

A part of Elizabeth Bennet wanted very much to send the letter into the flames and never have to hear from the mysterious author again, yet she was also intrigued, and desperately wanted to find out more...

**Thank you very much to the kind reviewers, without whom I would never have bothered to continue intruding on Miss Elizabeth Bennet's world. :)**


	7. Smile

**I don't write anything for two months – and then I write two chapters in the same number of days – with a third one well under way. Hope you like it :) Thanks again to the reviewers – you are constantly appreciated and the reviews still make me happy.**

Elizabeth Bennet picked up, with some degree of interest, a book lying on a table, caring not what it might be about – merely using it as some form of excuse not to make conversation with the inhospitable Bingly sisters. As she turned the front cover over to begin to read, she noted, with a sigh of dismay, yet another sheet of very white paper. She had, by now, resigned herself to the simple fact that this mysterious author was not going to leave her alone.

Dear Miss Elizabeth Bennet

I realise that it was slightly underhand of me to slip this into the book you are reading at Netherfield Hall. I don't wish to keep you long – for Mr Hurst is soon to remark about your preference for books over cards and comment on your singularity. Don't be offended by this – it's probably for my sake.

Incidentally, I thought you ought to know that Mr Darcy is very taken by your eyes. He thinks that they're very nice and thus begins to like you. And he told that bitch Caroline Bingly that he likes your eyes. Why? Does he have no sense of social etiquette?

Excuse me, but what kind of a foundation is that for a relationship? Would he still love you if you had your eyes closed? What about when you're sleeping? Strange man.... maybe he has a bit of an eye fetish kind of thing. I would be worried if I were you.

Anyhow, I probably shouldn't distract you now, because Miss Bingley is going to make a rather cutting comment after Mr Hurst and I believe you will need your wits about you. I could always tell you what to say, but that would be ruining it a bit, wouldn't it? Or would it?

Anyway, you are about to partake in a crucial conversation about accomplishment. It really is a wonderful conversation, believe me, I must have managed about three pages full of nonsense on only a couple of quotes out of there. It was pretty decent nonsense, if I do say so myself.

On another note completely, Charles Bingly is quite cute, isn't he? I almost want to hug him because of his general cuteness. Sorry. Can you still understand me? Never mind...

Yours &c

P.S In a response to a query of yours from a couple of letters ago, you wondered what :) meant. I'll give you a clue – turn the paper on its side.

:)

Elizabeth Bennet frowned, and holding the paper in the book, rotated it, attempting to find out the meaning of the colon followed by the end brackets. Little did she realise the disparaging looks that she was receiving from both Miss Bingly and Mrs Hurst – and she still could not make sense of the infuriating :) What on earth were two dots underneath a curved line meant to symbolise?

She was halting in her musings by Caroline Bingly's sharp and rather obnoxious voice inquiring as to Mr Darcy's sister.

``It is amazing to me how young ladies can have patience to be so very accomplished as they all are," Bingly commented.

And now the company found themselves drawn into a discussion over accomplishment, just as the writer of the letters had predicted. Yet again, they were correct. It was infuriating and confusing and highly annoying. Was there nothing that the writer of the letters did not know? Well, Elizabeth Bennet made certain that she would discover the meaning behind :) Did the letter writer take some sort of sadistic pleasure from taunting her? What had Elizabeth Bennet ever done wrong in her life? She could not remember any individual who she had slighted so grievously that they would continue to torment her with peculiar letters. One day, she decided, she would discover the reason behind them.

**:)**

**If all goes to plan, Miss Elizabeth Bennet will be writing back next time...**

**Please, if you can be bothered to read this far, surely you can be bothered to write a review **


	8. Three Letters

**Two chapters in a day :) I'm on a roll... Well, they are quite short, and, after NaNo, writing quickly is pretty easy. It's the motivation and inspiration that are the hardest parts...**

**I can't thank the reviewers enough. Seriously. **

As Elizabeth Bennet moved herself thankfully away from the conversation in which her mother seemed to insist upon embarrassing her in every way possible, she passed by a beautiful statue with a piece of paper stuck in its mouth. Elizabeth Bennet recognised the paper very well by now, and quickly removed it from its peculiar positioning, lest anyone else should notice. When she was sure that there was no other person around to see, she unfolded the paper and began to read.

Dear Miss Elizabeth Bennet

I noted with some degree of interest, your comment about poetry killing off promising love. I couldn't help but wonder what poetry between you and Mr Darcy might be like. Here are my suggestions:

Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie

You make me rather dizzy

I don't like your mum and your dad is weird too

But be assured, I really love you.

Darcy, Darcy, Darcy

I rather like your arse-y

But I hate your friend's sisters

They are as annoying as blisters

I confess, I am no Shakespeare, but I was rather proud of these verses. What do you think?

Yours &c

This was, as far as Elizabeth Bennet was concerned, the final straw. The mysterious writer of the letters continues to insult her and to tease her. She needed answers, and as far as she knew, the only person capable of providing them was the author of the letters herself. She would be forced to take action and reply.

Dear mysterious author

It is with a considerable amount of confusion that I write back to you after all this time. I have received, in total, eight letters now – some of more value than others, and I demand to know quite why I am the recipient of them.

I do not know whether or not you will receive this letter. You appear to be omnipresent in my life, and so I will have to assume that you receive this with ease, despite me never sending it.

I also demand to know what :) means.

Yours

Miss Elizabeth Bennet

P.S I was not impressed by your poetry

After furiously scribbling the letter out, Miss Elizabeth Bennet was unsure what to do. Should she leave the letter on her desk? Someone else might lay eyes on it, and some to the immediate assumption that Elizabeth Bennet ought to be kept in a lunatic asylum somewhere.

She turned her head to look out the window, and when she looked back, her original letter was gone, and another was in its' place.

Dear Miss Elizabeth Bennet

Hi again. I feel that I owe you an apology. However, I cannot find it within myself to apologise with the horror of coursework still fresh in my mind. We're redrafting now. It's not a happy time for me.

I shall reveal the mystery of :) at a later point. Not now, though. I shall have to keep you waiting in order to create feelings of suspense and leave you still interested in my letters. If I told you everything I know now, you probably wouldn't want to bother anymore, would you?

Anyway, you probably will notice a lack of me in the next week or so of your life. It seems that all you do is banter wittily with dear Mr Darcy thus displaying intelligence, wit and astuteness and general unconventionality etc, etc. I really can't be bothered with that, although it is a gold mine for quotes.

I suppose I could force another letter out about Darcy and you and the twin she-devils and Mr Hurst, who seems to be a bit weird – but, quite frankly, I can't be bothered. I've probably said it all before and there's a certain character about to appear a few chapters on who I really want to dig my teeth into...

I cannot help but wonder quite how ill your sister actually got from that little spell in the rain. She is in serious need of getting over herself and toughening up a little.

Merry Christmas!

Yours &c

Elizabeth Bennet was, once again, so infuriated by the content of the letter that it barely occurred to her that it was nowhere near Christmas. Not only had she got no further as to finding out the secret behind :), she was, so it seemed, not to receive further correspondence in the next 'week or so'. That, surely, was the very height of rudeness and poor manners. Had the letter writer been taught anything by her parents? Clearly, Elizabeth was going to have to simply wait and be patient. She despised waiting and employing the virtue of patience. The writer of the letters was clearly cruel, rude and judgmental.

**In case I don't update before Christmas (which is highly unlikely, because I'm in the mood for writing) MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!**


	9. The Last Letter

**Yes, I've been away. I've had exams – but they're over now! Still, the end is neigh for the letters...**

It was another normal day in the Bennet household when Elizabeth found yet another letter, this time in the chicken feed, of all places.

Dear Miss Elizabeth Bennet

This is it. The end. Well, technically speaking, it isn't. But for me, it is. Because, the truth is, I just don't care anymore. I have a complete lack of any strong emotion concerning you. I can't lie to my readers anymore, I simply can't pretend that I feel things when I don't.

So, this is it. I'm finally leaving you alone. Are you happy? Pleased? Relieved? Good. Despite the fact that you're a fictional character I wouldn't like to leave you dissatisfied. No, that's a lie. I would. :)

And no, I'm still not telling you what that means. Please don't attempt to contact me again. I won't be listening.

Yours &c

P.S. I've just realised that I have a fair amount of slightly incomplete letters still lingering about on my laptop. I wouldn't be surprised if they leak through to you at the right time.

Elizabeth Bennet read the latest letter with interest. Did this mean the letters would stop now? She certainly hoped so, yet the part about letters leaking through sounded ominous – leaking through from where? How? She had a horrible feeling that now she would never know...

**As explained, this is the last new letter. But I do have a few that I wrote a while ago and was saving up for later. So it's not quite the end.**


	10. Your Mum and Mr Collins

**Basically, the following chapters will only be the letters. There will be no short introductions, or Elizabeth's reactions, because it's all going to get rather same-y and boring. And I can't be bothered. Sorry.**

Dear Miss Elizabeth Bennet

Hopefully your father noticed this enclosed in Mr Collins letter and duly handed it to you without too much fuss. I doubt he would have done anything different – he is now entirely under my control... I feel so evil. I think I ought to have a big furry cat to stroke, but unfortunately I'm stuck with a skinny black cat called Molly who keeps jumping onto my keyboard. Yesterday she made the laptop shut down. I was pretty annoyed.

I'm sure that your whole family is in a bit of an uproar about Mr Collins, and quite understandably too. I wouldn't take it personally, if I were you, Mr Collins is merely the tool of a far greater person to demonstrate something to do with inheritance and male-dominated societies. Or something like that, anyhow. I probably ought to know. Just shows how much impact this education has had on me.

Aside from that, just in case you hadn't realised, Mr Collins is the character that I do so dearly wish to tear apart. Just look at him. He's so funny. And so is your mum. I just said your mum. Please ignore me. I'm being silly and quite immature.

Anyway, on the subject of your mother – have you ever met a more ridiculous woman in your life? I really cannot comprehend how your father put up with her for quite so long. He must have the patience of a saint. Actually, I imagine that even a saint would not be able to put up with your mother for too long. I would just laugh at her, to be absolutely honest with you.

Have a fun time with dear Mr Collins, Lizzy – one of my favourite scenes of all time is about to crop up. It's jolly good fun. Perform well for me. Although, I admit, your father does make the best comment I've heard in a long time. Very witty man, your father. You and he can be witty together.

Yours &c

**I wouldn't really mind a review, but don't feel obliged. At the time of putting this chapter up, I have 55 reviews. That's more than I can count to with my fingers and toes even if I used each one twice. So I'm eternally grateful, and I don't really need any more. But thanks, anyway.**


	11. Pianos and Laziness

**This is, very much a ghost of a letter. Still, I thought it brought up a valid point.**

Dear Miss Elizabeth Bennet

I'm sure that you will agree with me here when I tell you that I find Lady Catherine de Bough to be the most insufferable woman alive in literary fiction. How rude of her to force you to play the piano when you are obviously unskilled and far unaccomplished to do so. But maybe _you_ ought to have practised more – eh, Lizzy?

Your apparent lack of accomplishment is not only another way that you are unconventional, but also leads me to believe that you are inclined towards laziness and sloth. Go and practise that piano playing, woman! If Mary can do it, why can't you?

Silly Lizzie.

**It's really only half a letter. But I genuinely have no idea what I was intending to say next, and I didn't want to ruin it but making something up.**


	12. Thinking about the Environment

**Yet another 'half letter'**

Dear Miss Elizabeth Bennet

I see you're beginning to have second thoughts on Mr Darcy now, aren't you? I shall say nothing more, merely point you in the direction of my second letter. That is, if you still have it. I imagine that you have quite a considerable amount of letters piling up wherever you're keeping them. It's all quite bad for the environment, I'm sure. Recycle them after you've finished, won't you? I don't like to even begin to think of the carbon footprint the paper production is giving me.

Actually, it's not real, is it? The only way I'm destroying the world through this is the energy used to power my laptop and, quite frankly, I would use that energy anyway, doing unconstructive things with it – like facebook, which is simultaneously the bane and love of my life.

**But, seriously, we all need to think of the impact we're having on the environment. Think of the polar bears.**


	13. When a grown man and a 15 year old elope

**This is one of the most annoying parts of the book, and I really wanted to have my say :)**

Dear Miss Elizabeth Bennet

I enclose this letter inside Jane's because I wanted to tell you to get a grip.

I think you became unduly worried about Lydia eloping. Admittedly, Mr Wickham is slightly paedophilic, and your sister is only fifteen, but do lighten up a little. You practically had a nervous breakdown. If you seriously want to be conventional and open minded, you could have merely shrugged upon opening the letter and given some unconventional comment such as 's**t happens'. This would have added to the humour of the book. I realise that as a young lady you have been brought up with certain 'qualities'... more the pity.

I realise you belong to an entirely different society. If, now, a fifteen year old ran off with an older man we would lock the man up and plaster his face all over the newspaper. Whereas _you_ just marry them off. Um... hello? What kind of a father/mother/sister would you be to be _relieved_ when your fifteen year old daughter/sister is married to a paedophile? Without wanting to sound too rude, I think you have serious issues.

Perhaps you should seek counselling about your values?

Yours &c

**I'm starting to feel guilty about finishing this all, but I just need to get it over and done with.**


	14. The Real Last Letter

**Now it really is the end. Honestly. I had the end planned out all along, and it would be such a shame not to end it nicely. **

Dear Miss Elizabeth Bennet Mrs Elizabeth Darcy

This is my last letter.

I have some apologising to do.

I'm sorry for being so judgemental about you. I'm sorry for blaming you for my predicament with this coursework. I realise now who to blame.

I'm sending this off to the minister for education.

Yours &c

P.S. That's how it was supposed to end. Still, things don't always go as planned, eh?

No, thought Mrs Darcy, in agreement, they don't.

**And that, dear readers, is really it. **

**I hope you've enjoyed the journey. **


End file.
